Excavate, Passport
by DevDev
Summary: Claire is on the beach digging with her bare hands and Sawyer is the only one brave enough to approach her. Juliet/Sawyer, Claire/Charlie, hints of Claire/Sawyer.


I wrote this for a challenge/prompt on Livejournal, but can't remember which one... or where, haha. My two prompts were the words excavate and passport while staying under 750 words or less. This takes place some time after the last flash. Enjoy!

* * *

"Hey Excavator."

It's dark. The sun has set and darkness has slowly crept along the beachfront, swallowing the remaining survivors and leaving them with speckles of stars. The only way Sawyer can even see Claire is by her pearly skin and yellow hair. He ignores the surge in his stomach at what her blonde curls make him remember, hiding this with some stupid nickname.

She doesn't glance away from her digging though, even if he notices a brief hesitation before her hands plow back into the sand.

"You're not crazy, are you?"

She looks up at his question and he can tell she's trying to decide if he's _really_ asking or if he's just being a smartass. She narrows her eyes and he realizes that this is her way of saying no. It's all he gets before her hands are once again at work. They're cracked now, he notices. Some of her cuticles soaked in blood, her palms red and angry. Despite her efforts, the hole isn't getting any bigger.

"Because most sane people might consider taking a shovel when offered, you know. Kind of helps with this sort of thing."

She stops again and looks up at him. "I-I," and she stops, swiping a tongue across her cracked and dry lips before trying again. "I am **not** crazy, James."

"Then stop acting like it and let me help you. Whatever it is you're doing will take forever that way, anyway. I'm no expert on holes or nothin', but why don't you take a breather and I'll take over for a little bit? Sound good?"

He doesn't wait for her to reply. Instead, she scoots backward, pulling her sore hands into fists, her legs crossing. He picks up the discarded shovel and resumes her work.

"What's this hole for anyway? You ain't gonna drop yourself in to it once it's finished, are you?"

"No," she says and shakes her blonde curls. He pauses and waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn't.

"You used to talk a lot more."

"When you spend three years with two men who aren't even _alive_, you learn to hold your tongue a bit." She flushes and looks back down at her hands. "Sorry," she mutters.

"Is that why you're doin' this? For those men?"

"No," she says softly and pauses. It takes her a moment to realize he wants her to finish the sentence. "It's for Charlie."

"Darlin', I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Charlie's been dead for over four years now. Don't you think this is a little…?"

"Late?" She asks and then her lips stretch into a grin. "Yeah. I know." A moment of silence then as if she's pondering something quite carefully before saying, "But just because there's no body doesn't mean he doesn't deserve a proper burial. He died for us. He died for _me_. I know you can understand that, James."

James rests his head against the handle of the shovel, his long hair falling in front of his eyes. He makes no move to swat the strands out of the way, choosing instead to mull over her words and the emotion they evoke. "I do," he says gruffly.

"Then don't call me crazy."

"Okay."

He digs for a few minutes more before she breaks the silence. "Besides, his isn't the only grave I'm digging."

Sawyer sighs, leaning against the shovel once more, turning to look at her. "How many?"

"Two," pauses slightly before remembering to elaborate. "I have to dig one for Juliet too."

Sawyer feels the shovel slip from his hands, but doesn't hear it hit the sand. He grabs her round the shoulders, strands of her yellow hair suddenly prisoners under his grasp, an angry expression crossing his features. She, however, doesn't look surprised… or scared.

"It's okay, James." Her eyes are calm and it pisses him off. "She said you'd do this." She smiles gently, white teeth blinding. "Here," And then she's waving something in his face. Two somethings. "These are their passports. We're supposed to put them in… you know."

"Can you talk to her right now?" He loosens his grip, setting her back down on the sand.

She smiles sadly and shakes her head. "Only while in the cabin and that's gone now. But she gave me these and told me what to do. She loves you, you know that."

"Yeah."

Claire bites her lip; worry etching across her eyes. "You gonna be okay?"

"I think so. You?"

"Yes."


End file.
